Neither Here Nor There
by Rhianwen
Summary: A Magical Melodies story. Dia doesn't dream about true love anymore. Unrequited femmeslash of the DiaGina variety.


Neither Here Nor There

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Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and I'm pretty sure these ones don't like me, either.

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Summary: A Magical Melodies story. Dia doesn't dream about true love anymore. Unrequited femmeslash.

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Dia used to dream about _true love_ in all its rainbowey, crystal-bright, unattainable glory. 

Back before they came to Flower Bud Village, when Dia and Gina were just two little six-year old girls huddling together under the slides while Gina carefully cleaned the dust and gravel out the scrape on Dia's knee and put on a Band-Aid and kissed it better. Dia's tears stopped almost immediately, and she giggled softly and blushed a little bit, so glad to have a real friend.

Back when glossy darkbrown and softly shining blue heads bent together as Gina and Dia, nine years old, read together from an illustrated volume of fairytales at recess, even though Gina liked true-life stories about saints and healers and war-nurses better because she felt a strange, secret bond with those with an inborn imperative to devote their lives to making other people feel better, and that's why Dia wanted Gina instead of a stern and distant mother when she was sick with one of the springtime's many colds.

Back when she found Gina crying softly by herself in the girls' rooms at their junior high school because a crowd of boys and their shouts of _ugly nerd_ and _four-eyed loser_ and _blue-haired freak_, and it was finally Dia's turn to make Gina feel better by hugging her tightly and pulling that beautiful shimmery hair out of its braids and bows and stroking through the thick silky mass until Gina's tears slowed to an occasional sniffle. She lifted her head from Dia's shoulder and gave her a grateful, watery smile, light brown eyes like amber tea shining softly with gratitude and love.

It was then, at twelve, that Dia started re-imagining Gina's role in her life, letting it shift from _best friend_ and _attendant_ to _the only person I care to have near me._ Her dreams of being the fairytale princess and being awakened by the handsome prince's kiss began to change gradually until _she_ was the handsome prince, strong and healthy as her parents lamented that she never would be in reality, and the princess had long pale blue hair and big glasses with beautiful, soft, caring amber-tea eyes behind them. She would awaken her princess with a kiss of her own, show her that she was beautiful and perfect and so very, very loved, and they would be together forever.

But they didn't have to rush, because neither of them was going anywhere. Dia, pretty but withdrawn and panicky around large crowds, was in no danger of growing out of their friendship any more than Gina, sweet and kind and with a smile of welcome for all the world but hiding her beauty behind a comical exterior that few chose to look past.

And when Gina voiced her concerns that the city and the stress of a constantly angry and arguing family was bad for Dia, and then showed her a flier for a sanitorium opening in a little rural town, seeking both workers and patients, their isolation from the world outside of each other became more complete, and Dia knew that it would be just them forever, until she finally gathered up the courage to tell Gina what she had figured out six years ago.

She knew that it would be a happily-ever-after for her and her princess.

Until the doctor over at the Clinic where Dia had her frequent checkups at Gina's insistence began to notice Gina's aptitude for healing and comforting, and her kind, gentle, calmly level-headed nature, and requested her help here on a regular basis.

From then, Gina has spent more and more time at the Clinic, working diligently alongside the doctor while Dia wanders aimlessly until Martha sends her firmly outside for some fresh air.

And now, when Gina cleanses and bandages Dia's cuts, or rubs her back with the ointment she and the doctor have devised to loosen chest congestion, she always seems absent, though as careful and skilful and gentle as ever, and Dia thinks resentfully that the doctor, Alex he said his name was, is really very dull and absent-minded.

It hurts her, when she's tried so hard to be grateful for Martha and the doctor and Gina, but she can't seem to stop picking out his faults and hating him for them, and hating both him and Gina for that shy smile and the way those sweet amber-tea eyes light up when he comes into a room. She doesn't want to, but she can't help it, and she finds herself closing Gina out of her thoughts even though she knows she'll cry herself to sleep at the baffled hurt in her best friend's face as she turns slowly to leave.

She hates him even more when she sees, from the window of the second floor of the Sanitorium, a shy, sweet kiss exchanged between a tall dark-haired man and a small, slight girl with beautiful blue hair and glasses, and then rushes downstairs to find Gina sitting on her bed, staring reverently and a beautiful, shimmery, silky deep blue feather.

Dia used to dream about _true love_. But lately, she's just not interested anymore.

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End Notes: Okay, am I the only one who reallyreally loves Gina? I thought she was a sweetie in Save the Homeland, and she's even more of a sweetie in Magical Melodies. Anyway, I think Alex/Gina is adorable, and Dia/Kurt is adorable, but I just wanted to play with the idea of the bond between Dia and Gina being not-so-sisterly. I'm not sure if it works, but heck, it killed some time, right:)  



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